All This is My Homeland!

ALL THIS IS MY HOMELAND!

The concept of the homeland is multifaceted in the poetry of T. Travnik, like the poet himself. In the poem "The Motherland" Terentii discovers this versatility and multilayeredness from the "derevensky fence" and "huts with a crested roof", to the "cage and gymnast", "fortune and knife" - "all this is my Rhodina ". This concept extends far beyond the boundaries of the indicated boundaries of Russia:

Still I will tell: from the Sun - the third,
With the name in five letters - Earth,
One sixth of the land -
All this - my homeland!

From the poet's diary:

"How does the Motherland begin?" - what a true and important question, what wonderful words, what an amazing song! And, really, where does it start? The question for each one of us and the answer is for each one of us ... I, who, in my writings on this topic, can, like anyone else, need this pony-mother. How often do I pronounce these words not only in my travels or in moments of secluded rest, but in any other expressive, emotional situation. How many answers I went through, how many wonderful instants I was asked by answers to this significant question and all seemed correct, all suitable, all responding, but not completely. For some reason, there always remained a state in my soul, which told me that we must think more, we still have to comprehend something. I do not know how to express it, but somehow I noted that the answer that gets to this question at each of my ages is slightly different, apparently supplemented by a new experience, gained over the years, it changes. Something is invariable, but something is introduced, but the community in terms of the Motherland still remains. So where does the homeland begin? With "pictures in your letter", with good friends, with the song of my mother ... or from all this at once and from something else quite different, elusive? ..
Try to answer this question. I assure you, it will not be easy, very difficult. It's the same as answering the question on the question of what the friendship, faith, happiness, love is for you, for example ... But this is not about this now, it's about the Motherland: about the house, about the family, about the country , .. and maybe about the earth or the Earth? .. Maybe about the Earth, but first, about the Motherland, because the question sounded exactly like this: where does the Motherland come from? I die ... I think, I listen, look, I search, I search for the answer ... I read into written verses, my own, others', many about it and many with answers. So why is it so difficult to answer this question? Maybe because you're here, you're at home, you're in her love, are you in her beginnings? ..
Emigration, nostalgia ... I asked my friends who left the Motherland to be "transplanted", as they call themselves. He asked, and they answered me, answered me deeply, and often the same was in their answers, they answered, remembering childhood, the first bright childhood impressions: mother, father, yard, school, games ... and everything as a child. This often disrupted the rasskaz, but it became clear that the Motherland begins with something important in childhood. Or maybe she starts with him? From all that happens to us in our childhood?
And then I understand, I understand suddenly, how insight concerns me this understanding, I understand that it is not just in childhood, but what happens to us for the first time and in childhood. Is this really so, is it really that the first impressions, the first meeting of a child's open soul, a soul undiscovered by the rules of adult life, its conventions, is that with which Roddin begins for each of us? If this is so, then any happy, bright, full of pure experiences of childhood memories is that trickle, then the beginning, or rather one of the main principles that later merge into one and form in each of us that beautiful, wide river that we and Call the Motherland and which carries us in its waters of Life ... Perhaps this is why this question, often asked by a thoughtful soul, is important. And now I will say in another way: where do you start ... are you? Not from the Motherland? And Ro-din, your homeland? Not from you ... as a child?

Summer 2004

The poet expresses his amazing and sincere love for the Motherland with a high civic attitude towards everything that is happening in Russia, reflecting the epoch of his time with his work. The "dashing" years of the early 1990s, when the Soviet Union collapsed, all its pain for the confusion and banditry that covered the country with its head, when "the borders opened" and a filthy flood of depravity and permissiveness, T. Travnik expressed in a poem, Written in twenty-seven years. Subsequently this poem became the famous song "Vladimirka", often performed today by young singers and bards, and simply by lovers of the poetic word in music. You read about those times 20 years ago and involuntarily plunge into the atmosphere of those days where "every day here Christ is crucified again", where everything is bought and sold: "a liter of vodka - two" Kati ", and the soul - no shisha ". The times of stagnation turned into drinking times - "they drink in the morning, they blame in the daytime, well, and the hands even in the rings, and under the stones - the blood." And only the "deafened bell-ringer, having turned into a language ... in a co-literate wail, decided to die, so that the cold Russia will warm his death". It's painful to read the lines addressed to "Russian lapotnik, a nobleman with an ax":

Hey you, Russian lapoton, nobleman with an ax
With an unlimited soul, and a mended mouth -
Under Smolensk - robbed, near Ryazan killed
And in a failed pit under the cross a drunkard sleeps.

What is he, young Travnik? How did his young soul respond to life? In those years, the poet did not part with the hero. They wrote hundreds of songs. As Travnik himself recalls: "I did not write poetry, but I gave everything to the power of mu-zyki. So he said - he wrote not a poem, but a song. I write the words, but I hear them singing, as they sound in melodia. Verses are not all sung, but to be precise, then poems have their own inner melody, and what is sung, then sooner or later becomes a song. If you fall into the hands of a talented composer, it will become a wonderful, and even a great dog, her. And if the song has appeared, then the poem, as a work of art disappears. Try and read-after the song heard verses by Vladimir Vysotsky's work, well, for example, "if a friend was suddenly ..." or quote the song of Andrei Makarevich. It will turn out in a sing-song manner. There are no poems already, but ... they are sung. This is how it happens in life with poems born for a pen-sen. Much is reborn in the art of the word, but there are just poems and only poems. They are not sung, they are forbidden to sing - they can only be pronounced and in this their supreme destination is to be pronounced. "
In 1994, T. Travnik wrote in his "Letter to the Motherland": "without fire, without pain, torn, and in spots, on the ground, through bitter lies, the flowers have passed away." And absolutely "do not like me" - says the poet about "bazaars brisk" and "fairs of the ownerless", when Russia has become instead of a country with a "market economy" in a continuous market and many people, especially the generation of the 50's and 60's, - the enterprises and thirty-forty-year-old citizens were falling apart: engineers, teachers, doctors-were forced to trade to survive. The poet exclaims about what he saw:

The memory is all crazy, the pack is plundered,
And on the bell towers every ring that moans.
My farewell song, my melancholy song ...
Why did I become a guest, where I was born?


In many poems of the 90s of XX century, in the period of socio-historical changes, there is an image of a poet-citizen expressing his poetic lines about the events taking place. In the poems "Tin Soldiers", "Towards the War in Chechnya," the poet openly expresses his attitude to local conflicts, wars and their consequences, which at that time tormented Russia. In the poem "Rus", written in October 1993, the poet, accurately conveying the atmosphere of those years, speaks of the ability of the Russian people to revive:

And the people in Russia, like grass, though scythe,
Only let it germinate - everything will understand and forgive.

"Dying out" dashing nineties, but again "the soul hurts about what it was, the soul hurts about what is now" - these words, from the nineties, apply to today's Russia. The country has changed, we have changed, we have become more prosperous, but the pain and anxiety for the future of our beloved homeland and human destinies disturb the poet's soul and pour into his famous lines, which will later be quoted by many as a question to the country's conscience, but zna-chit And to ours with you:

Doomed country to death
Where there is no childhood and old age is poor.

In these two lines, the whole reality of the life of today's Russia is expressed: beggarly pensions, to which the old people "survive" and the same beggarly benefits for children, the social insecurity of young specialists and people of pre-retirement age. The institute of age succession of generations is broken. But children by nature need to be in the care of their parents, and parents in their turn need the life experience and wisdom of the people of the older generation. By investing the eternal values of love in today's children and laying the foundation of spiritual values, moral culture and national, primordially Russian traditions in their souls, nurturing high feelings of patriotism for their Motherland - the state invests in the future of Russia. Disregarding the needs of older people, we undermine our roots, forget that it is the roots that give life to the whole tree. The withers will die, the roots will die - the whole tree will die. Ivan Andreevich Krylov, a Russian writer and fabulist (1769-1844) gave a magnificent image of a pig, which, while consuming acorns, thoughtlessly picks up the roots of an oak tree: "Only the acorns would have been, and we do not need roots ...". In the poem "Autumn in the spring ...", even the name of this poem is multi-valued, T. Travnik says that the "golden mean" is only there,

Where there are opportunities in life
Finish yourself in reverence
And with inspiration to begin.

And while, alas, traveling along the roads of Russia, the poet notes with sadness: "I learned so much sadness from the roads, talking with life from the roadside" and "I have learned so many bitter tears, hopes and empty expectations."
As a poet-citizen, T. Traniku is characterized by a sense of high responsibility to his readers, his people. "And if I was from where, so what I look for is the people!" In his verse lines there is a rare energy and courageous strength, the firmness of ethical guidelines emerges, impeccable fidelity to a high spiritual choice. In the poem "Russia, Are You Guilty", he boldly and bitterly says that in today's Russia "every fifth is unthinking here, that every third is out of work" and asks the question: "And who put in order Places all this perfect shame "? In this poem, virtually every line has relevance for today's Russia. The poet is worried about the fate of his generation, on-the-ground and the Motherland. Somehow these words "brought up", which the poet never once used in his works, sound particularly bitter here, but here they are exposed as an exclamation, as an acultural grotesque, as a national disgrace:

Who exchanged you, Russia,
On "wow, show and weekend"?
Are your sons? But are they really sons?
Who just caught the moment,

And the prince fell into this body,
What else does he keep on himself,
What our grandfathers appreciated -
Souls of people's honor and shame.

How much righteous anger and pain the poet put in every word of this poem, reminding his contemporaries of the preservation of the great value of the "soul of the people," its "honor and shame." "Conscience, Nobility and Dignity - that's it, our holy army" - these words of the Russian-this, the executor of the author's song Bulat Okudzhava (1924-1997), written in 1988, and today sound like a moral tuning fork.
The poet can not remain indifferent and the Russian language is blocked by various foreign words and by word-parasites. In the "Analytical article on nominal display", T. Tranik-publicist writes: "Language is an impeccable indicator of our entire state, our psychic life. Life coarsens, our language is disfigured, our ability to feel, understand and know is diminished. Language culture, understanding the word, owning it, preserving a sense of responsibility in oneself for what has been said is the guide for our existence, on which it will largely depend - whether our development will go well and differently, harmoniously, or distort, turn to the other side and , In the end, will acquire a repulsive, ugly form. Our language is poorer, and we lose the sense of time the more, the more pronounced our desire for a crude and primitive syllable. "
The problem of words-weeds in Russian poet was the whole cycle of poems "Lessons of the Khrushtian language", where Travnik with sad irony conducts lessons on words that pollute the Russian language. And for today, this lesson is not over, because the words and expressions are walking in full force in our vocabulary: "Tipo understood, as if he heard," "a calloused, sniffing from under the nose" well, "which often means A natural "yes"; And instead of "what", thrown through the half-compressed lips "Th", "chavo". In the same article, T. Travnik expresses the idea that "the more expressive, slender and richer the language of the people, the higher is its ability to develop its own cultural, social, and intellectual spaces." Proceeding from this understanding of the preservation of the richness and identity of the mighty Russian language, its expressiveness, the poet, with his word, stands guard over the beauty and fullness of his native language, avoiding disrespectful attitude towards him, communicating with his reader with words in which the concepts of the eternal values of good and love are invested. It is the high spirituality of the Russian word that is the bridge that connects us with the world of the hill and encourages "to learn Russian, so that the star can then easily understand." Yes, the Russian word is special, and Travnik knows about this and gives us a piece of this knowledge:

Do not compare, do not compare
Russian-language in verse.
With nothing, not with anyone, but only with yourself
It could compete.

All that is filled with love,
Love and protected!

What a complete and powerful two final lines! What beauty and poetic clarity these lines breathe! In them the poet reveals the secrets of the spiritual power of the Russian word: it is filled with love - this is the first secret, but the main secret is that the Russian word is not only filled with love, it is "love and protected". Relying on the Christian truth that God is Love, and reading these lines with the help of the hermeneutic method, the deep hidden meaning of these words opens: "Everything that is God-God -protected and protected". Immediately come after these lines, others: the God of Russia is the heart of Orthodoxy, a country from time immemorial that holds the Orthodox faith in God and lives according to the Gospel commandments. Developing further thought in this direction, you open up a different, more personal meaning: God enters into the human heart, purified from the contamination, and fills this heart with love, and this love protects a person from all troubles and Earthly life. That's what knowledge T. Tranik revealed to us in these two vast lines! Now, from where does such wealth and power of the Russian word come from?